


Paper Roses

by silver_doe287



Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Aerith's still in the science department, Cadet Cloud, F/M, Valentine's Day 2021, a bit of fluff disguised under some angst, as well as blood drawing, minor medical mentions, needles are briefly mentioned, no beta for this one i wrote it quickly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-15 16:14:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29438823
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silver_doe287/pseuds/silver_doe287
Summary: Cadet Cloud Strife used to hate the night shift, until a chance at a solitary rotation in Shinra's science department led to his meeting the most beautiful girl he'd ever seen. Happy Valentine's Day 2021!
Relationships: Aerith Gainsborough/Cloud Strife
Comments: 3
Kudos: 35





	Paper Roses

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Valentine's Day! Here's a small little unbeta-ed fic I wrote for the happy occasion, although it ended up being a little sadder than I was planning on. No matter if you have somebody or not today, remember that you're the most important person in your life and therefore you should treat yourself as your own valentine, every day of the year. Love you all, stay safe and healthy!

Cloud Strife used to hate the night shift. As he stepped down the shadowed corridor, hand carefully curling around the paper strategically hid underneath his standard-issue size small uniform, he did his best not to jump at the looming dimness around him.

The dark corridors and black shadows and eerie silence that accompanied Shinra Tower were such a stark contrast to the starlit sky he was used to back home in Nibelheim. His helmet, which was too large to be more than a nuisance, made what little light existed worse and bathed everything in a deep shade of red, adding to the creepy ambiance. Even now, he felt compelled to be wary against any sign of movement while on the night shift.

When he'd first arrived in Midgar and had enlisted in the infantry with his sights set on the SOLDIER program, he had been warned that night and weekend shifts were regular rotations and were expected of all new recruits. Others had taken the news quite difficult, especially those from Midgar who talked about now-shattered dreams of weekends partying and hanging out with friends. As an outsider, that hadn't really been a problem for Cloud. He wasn't going to stay a trooper for long, at least that was his goal. So he took the news rather well and decided he'd volunteer if they needed extra work on those hated shifts.

And then he worked his first night shift. Of all places to patrol, his supervisors stuck him in a back alley guarding a warehouse with an older boy named Jason who made it his life's mission to make Cloud's world hell. He had been able to hide the bruise on his shoulder but had to remain mute when questioned regarding the brilliant black eye he sported the next day. The resulting week of torture trained his mind and body to flinch instinctively when the night shift was involved, and it would take almost two years for that to leach out of him.

Everything changed when he got put on a rotation in the science department to stand guard over _her._

"You're late," Lieutenant Kan snapped as he approached the entrance to the science department.

Cloud fidgeted slightly with the paper under his coat as he thought scathingly to himself that he was actually ten minutes _early,_ thank you very much, but instead of complaining and ending up in trouble he straightened into a quick salute. "Sir!"

As his supervisor swiped his keycard and the door opened, the man rolled his eyes. "The professor will not be happy. You're to report to the kitchen first."

"Sir!" Cloud offered another salute and then walked through the doorway and into the science department, leaving a disgruntled Lieutenant Kan and his grumblings behind. The shutting door echoed ominously in the hallway.

There was something about the science division that felt like a tomb to Cloud. He couldn't place his finger on it – maybe it was the stacks of human-sized tanks he passed with a shudder, or perhaps it was the deadened expressions on those who worked here – but it never failed to send a shiver down his spine when he was here. Making his way through the winding hallways and up a set of cold, metal stairs, he approached the 'kitchen' with trepidation.

Inside the room designated the kitchen but with little more than a microwave, a laboratory-sized fridge, and a trash can with rotting food in the corner, stood Professor Hojo, director of the science division. While a wiry man with the hunch of somebody who spent the majority of his time peering down at specimens in microscopes, the threat of the professor's presence seemed to fill the room in a bleak rage. Next to him but barely noticeable was a mousy brown-haired scientist – so ordained in his mind by the obligatory lab coat – with pinched eyebrows and a nervous frown. She was holding a small, metal tray laden with a single chunk of bread, a past-ripe apple with traces of bruising along its pale red surface, and a bottle of juice that clattered to the floor at a tilt of the tray. Neither scientist paid it any mind as Hojo continued studying his notes with a sour expression and the vaguely-familiar woman he'd probably seen before waited anxiously for her boss to say something.

Cloud lingered in the doorway for only a moment before bringing himself into the room and standing at attention while he awaited his orders. This alerted the others to his presence, and Professor Hojo turned towards him with an annoyed glint in his eyes.

"You're late!" he barked at Cloud. Cloud didn't respond but continued to stand still, letting the beat of anger fall harmlessly against the fluttering bird of his heart. He didn't like the professor one bit, and yet he knew if he were to ever make it into SOLDIER, they'd become much better acquainted. Perhaps there was a saving grace to failing the SOLDIER exam a couple times, after all.

Hojo stormed past him, barely acknowledging him as he snapped for both he and the other scientist to follow. The woman shuffled anxiously past, and Cloud caught that the bottle of juice remained untouched on the floor. He darted over to it, scooped it up quickly, and kept it partially concealed in his hand as he jogged to catch up with the scientists.

It was a testament to the paranoia of the science director that a night guard was even required to guard the person they were going to see, but Cloud wasn't stupid: this weekly opportunity both afforded him a guarantee to not be bullied and to see _her_ face again. He'd also heard the whispers from scientists who passed by in early-morning hours about how the subject had threatened to escape or hurt herself more than once. _It's to be expected,_ they claimed, _it's a show for someone with no power._

It didn't matter what the reason for his being on the rotation was, he was more than happy to volunteer for the job – even if it meant doing gruesome tasks at Hojo's command in regards to the subject.

They reached outside the room in question and Hojo angrily gestured to it. "Well? Go on then. The _bullshit_ staff I have to put up with, I swear…"

The assistant glanced wildly at Cloud and shoved the tray of food into his arms. He accepted the surprising load with less than grace but managed to stop the chunk of bread from rolling away and onto the floor. Once it was balanced, he subtly added the juice back to it. Meanwhile, the woman waved her keycard in front of the reader and there was a loud beep while the door slid open.

Cloud's breath caught in his throat and he did his best to swallow the bundle of nerves as he dutifully followed Hojo and the other scientist into the cell.

The room was as he always saw it – a small bathroom hugged the corner to his left, complete with metal toilet, sink, and single shower. The dim light in there was flickering. Outside of the room was a small bed shoved next to the wall with gray covers and a lumpy, graying pillow. A dresser and desk adorned the back wall, each in mint condition with barely a sign of being used aside from a single drop of blue paint that he always noticed on the surface of the desk. On the right side of the room was a long, minimalist bench with a two-inch cushion clad in yet more gray. On the bench, curled with her legs pulled into her chest and her arms and hair burying her face, was Aerith.

At the sound of Hojo noisily bursting into the room with the woman and Cloud following, she barely did more than flinch. That was never a good sign; usually it meant the professor had given her some sort of medicine that made her delirious. It was going to be one of _those_ nights, which put a slight damper on his grandiose plans. Taking care to keep his mouth from groaning as it wanted to do, he schooled his expression and set the tray of food quietly onto the small, round table that sat right next to the door.

Hojo continued his trajectory until he was right in front of the girl. He reached for one of her bony arms but she fought him with a whimper, a tremor trembling down her body as she did so. Sighing in annoyance, the professor shot his gaze back to Cloud, disdain evident.

"You, come here and hold her arms," he ordered. Cloud rushed over while taking a deep breath, knowing this was the worst part but at least it was _him_ holding her and not anybody else. He positioned himself behind her and, as gently as he could, coaxed her arms to her sides. Hojo stood back and let the woman push Aerith's legs down, and then he shoved her out of the way, needle and two test tubes in hand as he greedily sought a vein in her arm.

Cloud looked away and tried to keep his expression neutral as he heard the soft whimpers coming from Aerith. He wished he could say something or stop the professor, but he was just a trooper and wasn't strong enough.

_Not yet._

So he did his best and kept her arms still with gentle pressure. He rubbed soft circles into the skin of her left arm, the one that was hidden that the other two couldn't see. He hoped she knew it was him this time.

"…appears to react as expected with human behavior to administered psychotic," Hojo was drumming on as he expertly tapped a vein and red began flowing from Aerith's arm. The other scientist had pulled out a notepad and was furiously scribbling while he spoke. "Further analysis will indicate if this affects the molecular structure of her Ancient cells."

For what was probably only twenty seconds but felt like an eternity, Cloud tried to tune out the scientific droning as he felt the paper hidden in his uniform weigh heavily against his chest. He was just one guy, and there was a part of him that doubted this would make any difference to her dreadful life, but it was something he _could_ do. He just had to wait for the right moment so he could turn his two weeks of practice into a final product.

Hojo stood with two fully procured vials of deep red blood, and his scorn only increased as he saw a couple beads of red bubble up from the surface of the recently pricked skin. Instead of bandaging it as Cloud had seen others getting blood drawn would get, he turned away and stalked back out the door. Letting go of Aerith's arms as quickly as he could, Cloud started after the other two. His standard-issue rifle gently hit against his back to remind him it was there as he jostled it.

Hojo was strolling down the hallway, muttering to himself and remaining completely oblivious to the other woman and Cloud. She glanced back at him once, shrugged, and jogged after him. This was the closest the professor would get to allowing Cloud to resume his normal duties, and yet…he eyed the still-open door with a skipped beat in his heart.

Decision made before he could fully process it, he dashed back through the open door and sat on the bench in front of Aerith this time, his fingers fumbling in his pockets for his small first-aid kit. After fishing for a few moments, his success rewarded him with a fresh bandage. He carefully peeled off the surrounding paper and protection for the adhesive before he reached forward and pressed the bandage over the beaded blood on skin at the crook of her elbow. She flinched but didn't say anything. Cloud didn't even know if she knew he was there. His warm fingers lingered against her cool arm for a moment longer than necessary, and then he was standing and backing quickly away, stumbling into the table as he caught one last glance at his angel.

The door shut behind him with an air of finality.

Standing guard outside a single room was usually a boring feat, and for the first hour of Cloud's weekly rotational night shift in the science division, it always was. Almost nobody walked by and nothing usually happened, not until the minutes had ticked long into an hour and the late shift scientists began leaving for the day. Cloud didn't envy having a schedule that finished at midnight, but then again he had started at eleven so he couldn't think much farther than his slight impatience for the rest of them to leave already.

When a glowering bad-mood Hojo strolled past him and tossed a keycard in his general direction almost fifteen minutes later, Cloud knew he was in the clear. The professor was always the last to leave every night, and that keycard was the ticket he'd been waiting for. He stood raptly, rifle in his arms with one hand wrapped around the grip and the other cradling the barrel as the professor passed. He knew leaving as good and inconspicuous of a memory as possible would help him continue to be in this shift, at least until he finally passed the SOLDIER exam.

When Hojo had disappeared down the corridor, Cloud scooped up the keycard and stuffed it into his pocket.

He practically counted each second for the next ten minutes as he made sure nobody had forgotten anything and needed to come back. His shoulders began to slump in relief as each minute proved silent.

After the ten minutes were up, he carefully set his rifle off to the side, tugged his gloves off, and produced the hidden paper that had begun to look worse for wear now that it was free from its confinement. Soft wrinkles adorned the page, and he tried to smooth it out as best as he could before he tilted his head and began working with his hands, his heart singing in the process.

When he had left home for Midgar, if somebody had told Cloud he would spend his favorite days as a trooper guarding and befriending Aerith, he would have laughed. Then again, a younger version of him had been so incredibly _certain_ of his ability to pass the SOLDIER exam before he turned fifteen. While that determination clung to his heart even today, there were more important things in his life right now than proving to Tifa and his mom that he could protect them in his small stature.

His fingers nimbly worked, folding and twisting and bending as precisely as he could. His days of practice ran like an old video in his head, with a sort of fuzzy grain but with just enough sight that he knew what was going on. The muscle memory of _bend-twist, bend-twist_ relaxed his heart and stilled the nervous bounce in his left leg. There was something soothing about feeling the paper beneath his skin as he worked, and Cloud used it to his advantage to fill the hallway otherwise devoid of sound.

Just as he was finishing his project – and was feeling pretty pleased with himself, he couldn't lie – he heard a soft scratching come from the other side of the door behind him. The sound in the empty space tore through his memories of _night shift_ and _darkness_ and startled him. He jumped to his feet and made to grab his gun before he could remind himself that the sound was coming from the expected source. Whirling around to face the closed door, his heart once again beating its own anxious rhythm, Cloud took a deep breath and reached out to gently scratch down the metal door with his fingernail in response. He waited with bated breath.

" _My stormcloud…is it you?"_ came the faint whisper on the other side.

The endearing nickname warmed his heart, and Cloud sighed in palpable relief. "It's me," he reassured gently as his gaze found its way back to the paper rose pressed between his fingers. Suddenly it didn't look nearly as pristine as he had thought. In fact, she would probably find it silly. He had half a mind to throw it away in disgust, but instead he took out the keycard Hojo had given him (specifically for emergencies "if the subject tries to harm herself") and waved it in front of the reader. The door slid open and suddenly there she was, in the same position as she had been earlier on the bench, except now she was on the floor in front of the door with her head leaning heavily against the wall and her normally piercing green eyes peering blearily at him through a curtain of unwashed hair.

Cloud hastily hid the paper flower behind his back and crouched in front of her. Judging by her current state – from her hair to the bloodshot eyes to the quivering of her limbs, she'd been out of it for awhile now. A quick glance into the room beyond showed him that she hadn't even bothered to touch the food and drink they'd brought earlier.

Making his decision, he gently tugged on her hand and managed to pry it from its hugging position. He carefully stood them both up, tucking the paper flower into his belt behind his back, and walked her back into the room, where he deposited her back onto the bench. Then he reached over to the table and grabbed the bottle of juice, uncapping it and giving it to her.

"Here," he told her. "Drink this, you'll feel better."

Trembling hands accepted the juice and she brought it to her lips. All it took were a few careful sips for color to begin to return to her face. As she did that, Cloud left her and meandered over to the dresser where he pulled out fresh clothes. Placing them in the bathroom, he returned to her side just in time to see her finish the bottle.

"Thank you," she said demurely as she took in a gulp of fresh air and sat up a little straighter.

Cloud gestured to the tray of unappetizing food and then to the shower. "Which would you like first?" he asked kindly. Aerith thought for a long moment before pointing a finger towards the shower. He helped her up and got her to her destination, where she took over.

The routine for her worse days wasn't what he'd been hoping when he made his plans for tonight, but it was familiar to him nonetheless. Aerith went through similar treatments ever few months, and she was more than due for a day like today. All he could do was hope his presence helped. While she took some well-deserved privacy to herself in the bathroom, Cloud went about straightening up what little parts of the room needed to be cleaned: he tucked the sheets on the bed in military style so that the corners were folded perfectly and there were no creases or flaws, he fluffed the pillows and set them gently on the bed, and he carefully placed his paper rose creation into the empty juice bottle and made it the centerpiece of the world's saddest dinner table. Then he walked back out the door into the hallway, checked that things were still okay and they were alone, and he waited.

The soothing sound of running water and the gentle tendrils of steam that wafted his way made him begin to feel drowsy, but Cloud was alert in an instant when the water turned off. He listened carefully for signs that she was still okay and was relieved to hear footsteps that sounded surer of their footing. He sighed and leaned against the wall, crossing his arms and ignoring the gun that lay haphazardly – safety on, of course – at his feet.

The bathroom door opened with a soft squeak and he counted to himself, mentally wincing as he waited for her reaction. After a few careful footfalls that stopped short, there was a soft gasp.

"A…flower?" she whispered.

Cloud chose this moment to return to the room as he did his best to fight the embarrassment threatening dominance on his face in a scarlet shade. "Uh, yeah…" he replied lamely. "I learned how to fold it for you. It's a rose."

"A _rose_ …"

The word falling from Aerith's lips was like she'd kissed its beauty into being. That was his favorite part about her, the eloquence with which she spoke. Being from a country town himself, Cloud had never considered the hidden beauty in the way lips formed words and vocal chords gave sound to them. Now, he couldn't believe he'd never noticed the music with which people could speak. With which _Aerith_ could speak. Her voice was his favorite sound.

Aerith moved forward, almost entranced in her fresh clothing and dripping hair, her eyes never leaving the paper art as she sank into one of the hard, metal chairs. Her hand reached out and she paused for a moment, as if uncertain. Then she brushed her fingers gently against the paper petals.

"Do you like it?"

Cloud's own voice had dropped into a whisper without him realizing it. Enthralled, he joined her at the table with his eyes never leaving her face. Emerald green sparkled and she nodded as she met his gaze. "How did you do it?" she asked.

He stood again and pulled the rest of the paper from under his uniform shirt, presenting it to her as if it was a second gift.

"I can teach you, if you'd like," he offered. Aerith's eyes, getting clearer each minute, lit up at the prospect. So he settled in to share with her his newfound gift, his fingers moving more slowly as she struggled to grasp the concept of folding and twisting like he'd taught himself. In the end, two more roses joined the first in the empty bottle, and Aerith settled into her bread for dinner as she continued to stare at them.

He was speaking before he realized it. "When I make SOLDIER, I'm going to get you out of here."

If Aerith was surprised, she masked it well beyond her meeting his gaze and a light pink flush appearing on her cheeks. She was quickly returning to her usual personality, and her cool hand brushed against the back of his in a gentle, soothing manner. The touch alone sent shivers down his spine and put his heart in overdrive.

"My stormcloud," she sighed after swallowing, "you shouldn't say such things. You'll get in trouble."

"It's true!" The pout that settled on his lower lip ran unchecked for a moment before he gathered his senses. SOLDIERS didn't _pout._ "When I'm in SOLDIER I'll be strong enough to break you out. You don't deserve this, Aerith."

The corners of her lips twitched into a small smile as she contemplated. "So you want to be in SOLDIER?" she redirected as she moved her hand away and her eyes began to sparkle.

"O-of course," Cloud stuttered as he felt the full effects of her beauty radiating towards him. "I want to be stronger, so I can help people."

She laughed at that, a sound that simultaneously relaxed him and made him feel warm all over. Her laugh was like happy bells in his mind.

"Cloud," she said kindly after her laughter quieted, and this time her slender fingers wrapped around his hand much more assuredly. "You don't need to be stronger for me or for anybody else. You're perfect just the way you are."

Her other hand gently came to rest against his cheek, and Cloud felt heat pool under the sensitive contact. His gaze found hers again and discovered she had moved closer, her penetrating eyes boring holes into him. And then he couldn't stop the movement that took over him, the nerves that knotted in his stomach screaming _what are you doing?_ And then h leaned forward and kissed her.

Tonight, it was a paper rose. Tomorrow, Cloud would be back in his bunk staring at the ribs of the frame above his own, probably debating just how stupid he could be to fall in love with a Shinra science experiment. But someday, just maybe, he could break Aerith free from her prison and show her a real flower.

Yes, Cloud Strife used to hate the night shift. There was something about the dark shadows that kept his secrets and the darkness that promised privacy that enticed him now. He didn't care how many paper roses it took for his fumbling hands to make, nor did he care how long it took him to pass the exams and finally get into SOLDIER. No matter what, though, he was going to make sure Aerith always found happiness. He _would_ break her out and keep her safe.


End file.
